Page 42 of Court of Secrets and Flames

As upsetting as my unwanted discovery is, the riddle of who killed the fawns isn’t my primary concern. I require answers from the king on more pressing matters.

Stepping out into the morning light, I spot him ahead, already ambling along the pebbled path that leads around the fire paddock.

Before us, the enclosure unfurls. A vast expanse ringed with stone and metal. Squat blocky buildings form the center of the ring, with stone and sand grounds filling the rest of the space.

Metal carts stand against the side of the building, none so large a human couldn’t move them. Every part is designed to withstand the heat of dragon flame and still give the creatureswhat they need to remain comfortable. One section offers smooth sand for bathing. An enormous row of caves lines the back, each with a mouth that reaches as high as the treetops, allowing the dragons easy access. None of the caves have doors or any means of containing the dragons.

Over twenty mature dragons occupy the space. They represent all the colors of nature, with their undersides being lighter versions of their topsides. The smallest has to be at least fifteen feet tall and twenty feet long from shoulder to rump.

A thick yet delicate-appearing frill frames each dragon’s head to protect their ears from wind. Those frills undulate as the dragons trill and chirp to each other with content vocalizations.

They’re breathtaking…and more than a little terrifying. Especially after my encounter with two of these magnificent beasts just a few days ago.

But I don’t fear them any longer. Not much, anyway.

Guided by my experiences with groups of dragons at Flighthaven, I brace for an onslaught of negative emotions. The memory of my trips into the underground cells in the aerie induce a full-body shudder. Those poor dragons, locked away in the dark in enclosures barely large enough for them to turn around in, chained and wearing those metal muzzles to prevent them from breathing fire.

The anticipated influx of depression and pain never happens, and my muscles slowly relax as I draw near. Duh, of course it’s different here. Aclaris’s dragons were basically prisoners, whereas these ones can clearly come and go as they please.

The dragons’ minds brush against mine, feeding me their emotions. If there’s a way to block them out, I’m not aware. For now, I do my best to ignore the invasive feelings as I approach the king.

He’s dressed in an elegant but subdued cream-colored tunic and navy trousers. A gold ring with a large red gemstone flashes on his right hand, but no crown adorns his styled hair.

The faint smile he offers after he subjects me to a cursory inspection appears genuine, but I don’t trust it. If acting skills run in the family, then he could play the starring role in any theater.

He inclines his head. “Lark. I’m glad to see you looking so well. My guard assured me you were fine after your ordeal last night, but I must admit I feel better after witnessing your good health myself. I trust your new quarters are to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you.” I expected anger or at least irritation over destroying one of his suites, so his seeming authenticity throws me again. That probably explains why I blurt what pops into my head without thinking. “Do you want me to bow or curtsy? I know you’re a king but honestly, I’ve never understood the point of doing that every single time you see royalty. Doesn’t it make more sense to bow once and then after that, you don’t physically bow anymore and everyone can just assume you’re bowing in your head instead? I mean, um…”

I flinch and snap my jaw shut. What in the hells am I doing attempting to convince the king of Tirene that I don’t need to curtsy every time I see him? I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t toss me in the dungeon to cool my heels. I would have been better off trying my luck rejecting the king’s summons.

For several heart-stopping moments, the stunned king regards me with his lips parted. Then he shocks me by bursting into a throaty laugh.

Other people within earshot whirl around to stare. I ignore them and weave my fingers together in front of me.

His laughter fades into a smirk. “Well, as long as you’re curtsying in your head, how can I possibly complain?”

His surprising good humor prompts a reluctant smile to tug at my lips. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Excellent. Glad to hear we’re both on the same page.” His chin dips. “I need to apologize to you. Last night, the guard on duty stepped away from his post and left the door locked. I promise, he has been dealt with.” As he offers me his elbow, I wonder what happened to the guard but decide to curb my tongue. “As you’ve noticed today, I’m sure, the doors will remain unlocked from now on to prevent any tragic accidents.”

I curl my hand over his arm, allowing him to guide our path through the sprawling palace gardens. Even though I don’t love the circumstances under which this new privilege came about, I’m thrilled to learn I can come and go as I please.

“Thank you.”

The sunlight provides a delicious warmth as the king and I stroll and chat. He waxes poetic about some of his favorite things about Tirene—the beautiful rainforest and pristine beaches, bountiful dragons, the rich history, the people—and his passionate tone convinces even a new skeptic like me that he believes in what he says. He also shares a little bit about his family, and the way he talks reveals they’re important to him.

His father, the once formidable King Rex, is now nothing more than a memory. Queen Alannah, his mother, exists as little more than a wraith, her waning energy reserved in part for charity work.

“Her heart has always been with the people, not the politics, but her mind has faded a bit since my father died. Ah, and of course there’s Knox, my baby brother.”

His voice changes in a way that’s challenging to decipher when he speaks of his brother. If I had to guess, I’d say he sounds almost wistful.

I’m so desperate to learn more about Knox that I risk asking a question. As much as I prefer to pretend my feelings for himcut off the instant he unfurled his wings and revealed his lies, I’m not remotely over him. “Were the two of you close, growing up?”

The wistful expression deepens. “When we were little, before our father died, we played together all the time. Knox followed me around everywhere like a puppy, so one day I decided it would be a fun game for me to pretend to be a hunter and him my loyal dog. Everything went well until I got distracted by a huge toad I found inside my room. When Knox didn’t appear by dinnertime, my mother was frantic. That’s when I came strolling in and remembered I’d locked him the kennel after an imaginary hunt. Knox wanted to keep up the act and ended up falling asleep in there.”

I laugh out loud, trying my best to picture a young, playful version of the grumpy prince, so determined not to break out of his role as a puppy that he fell asleep in the dog enclosure. “I bet your mom wasn’t happy with you.”

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